Regret, revenge and riddance
by tiffanylouise
Summary: Sat after the series finale. Mitchell is still alive and  the friends are struggling to keep hold of the relationships throughout the house. Also, Herrick is still wandering about.  This is the same story I posted weeks ago just tweaked. M/A G/N
1. Annie

**As much as I regret saying it, none of the beautiful characters belong to me! :)**

FLASH! Another light, another flash of electricity, each spark representing the cracks forming viciously on her un-living, un-pumping heart. The rain, if she could have felt it, soaked her non-existent clothes and flattened her once wonderfully bouncy curls, that would have put a bright smile on any naïve, little girls face. If only she was back there, young, fresh and alive. She could not have felt further away from that youthful element of her memory than she did in that terrifyingly uncertain moment.

Questions, without answers, ran continuously through her mind. How? Why? Repeated over and over again and again until she could take it no more, she let out an earth shattering scream and slid almost un-human like down the damp bark of the willow. With her head in her hands, rain mixed with tears until neither could be identified alone. It was him. Nina was irritatingly right. She thought he had changed, he had promised them he had changed? But to kill all those innocent people certainly was not changed in her books. He reminded her of Owen. How she had been killed, shoved down the stairs to be precise, by a person that had mattered most to her, someone she had once loved with all her heart. Everything had just hit her at once, memories came back and that mental cup inside of her had finally overflowed.

Since Mitchell had saved her from purgatory she had talked to no one about what she had encountered there. The terrors she had seen and felt. Once, when she had returned and settled into the distasteful yet homely Welsh B&B, Nina had asked her if she had wanted to talk, but she passed it off with a joke about the Isle of White (just as Owen had done before her). Unconsciously following in Mitchell's footsteps in dealing with bad feelings and experiences, she had pushed it all to the back of her head and forced a smile onto her ever glowing face. But her face didn't glow now.

Where was her old self, the old girl, the one she had always been, happy and helpful in every situation, the guardian angel as she had once tried to be.

Rain endlessly still pouring into the mud ridden ground, she thought about the last 3 years, being killed, meeting Mitchell and George, meeting Nina, surviving the door, losing to the door, purgatory, Wales, her recent relationship with Mitchell and even facing down Herrick. It was true, she had become stronger and had matured alongside her family, her messed up, monster like, un-related family. She could hear them now, George being his usual worrying, ever-trying self:

"_You keep making tea! Every surface is covered with cups of tea and coffee. I go to make myself some tea and I can't! There's no mugs, there's no tea! It's all been made! And you can't even drink it! You can't drink it, but you keep making it! Oh, oh, oh my god, it's driving me INSANE!" _

Oh, how he had made her laugh at the most inappropriate times.

Mitchell, where did she start with Mitchell, she remembers him always being there for her, always sticking up for her. The accidental kiss from three years ago also flickered through her mind and the endless hugs they had shared. He was a vampire, she was a ghost, it was never meant to work, but oddly enough it did and it did so wonderfully for a short while. She loved him just as much as George, but in a totally different way.

The corners of her tired, pale mouth turned up slightly as she remembered the frequent times all three had shared on their small, broken, sofa back in Bristol, in their very own pink house.

_**Annie**__: "George, I didn't think you would seriously go through with it. I thought the moment would just pass. You know, like when you decided you were gonna wear skinny jeans."_

_**Mitchell**__: "Skinny jeans?"_

_**George**__: "That was a private conversation."_

Although, thinking back now, as she did so very often, she realised that the small, pink house was never truly theirs. It belonged to death and monsters and blood. It held everything evil could and should desire. She felt sick at how she could be so strongly attached to a place like that, quirky and inviting from the outside, horrific and damaging from the inside. It defined their lives. The three of them…well four.

Nina? What could she say about Nina? She seemed so very different compared to George and Mitchell, although she could tell that Nina had felt a glimmer of guilt towards her being sent to hell. She was stubborn and so un-willing to kill. She hadn't understood the pain Herrick had caused and was willing to forgive him and in return discovered a repulsive secret, a repulsive secret of Mitchell's.

And, with that thought she let out a melancholic whimper as she discovered that their lives, or lack of in some of their cases, were joined in one huge circle. Every story she could reminisce about George, Mitchell was involved in and Nina and herself. Every story she could tell about Mitchell she was in and that meant George was involved and of course Nina. In some strange way they all came together and linked, all un-human in more ways than one, but Human in so many others. When they spent time together, just simply sat in-front of the TV or sipping cups of her tea, were the times none had felt rejected, they all fitted together, like a distorted jigsaw. Each held a piece to another. The days and weeks of laughter and happiness flooded through her, as did the rain. What if she had never met Owen? Never been killed? Where would she be now? Where would any of them be?

She had no idea how long she had been sitting under the tree, but it was getting darker than just storm clouds and she wondered where she should go, spend the night. She couldn't go home.

"Home," she laughed indecisively. She wasn't going to kid herself, she couldn't go home. She couldn't look Mitchell in the eye; George avoided all communication and Nina, well who knew where she was. She had tipped Mitchell off to the Police, no thanks to Herrick, and from that moment everything had changed. She thought for a small moment about going back, back to purgatory. There clearly wasn't anything left for her here. Or was there? She wanted to hate Mitchell for what he had done, but there was one time, not long ago, before they had kissed, she had told him how she didn't care about what he had done, it was his past. Sure enough he had killed people, but it was all part of being a Vampire right?

She shivered as she thought of herself accepting a murder. But that was her now; she could easily be classed as a monster herself in many ways. She picked herself up slowly and straightened out her grey cardigan. It had dried as soon as the rain had come to a stop, one of the perks of being a Ghost she supposed. On the other hand, she longed to feel the touch of water; the drops of rain piercing her skin again. She had missed things, basic things, such as eating. What was the point of being able to taste if she couldn't eat or drink. Every cup of tea she made she longed to drink herself, but had to watch, almost desperately, as the others took her place.

What did they think of her? Did they consider her just a small figment of their lives? She was a Ghost and therefore not really there, like an imagination, a very ambiguous one. Did they share her feelings?

She turned naturally in the direction of the house, before she realised she was nearly home. She couldn't turn back now; she might as well carry on. Maybe the answers would be given as soon as she opened the door. There was no real, urgent need for her to use a door, she could just appear and disappear as she pleased but this felt normal, like she was alive again. Oh, how alive she had felt these past few years. More alive than she had when she was actually… alive. As she turned, from climbing the front steps, she faced out across the Welsh houses and thought gratefully about how she had finally found a place in this world, maybe it was all soon to be torn from her again, but she wouldn't go without trying. The wind blew in through her airy locks as she spun cautiously on her heels and headed for the door.

She turned the weird, old lock and breathed a breath she didn't need as she pushed the wood open. She could just see it now, a party, or her friends waiting for her, to celebrate, celebrate life, being human. She hoped it was all a dream, a nightmare, but Ghosts couldn't sleep and therefore it was impossible just to be an unconscious imagination. She tried to close the door quietly so no one would hear, but as she did the wind took it from her smooth hands and she slumped exhaustedly against it.

"_Annie…?"_ She heard a voice whisper; she could only guess it was Mitchell.

Who knew what was about to come her way, what was around the corner? But for now she knew she was Annie Sawyer and the butterflies in her stomach told her that, whatever was coming her way… was coming.

**End of chapter one, please review. I hope you enjoyed it.**


	2. Lost Hope

**Right here it is chapter two, please be nice. (: I tried to create an angry George, a George we maybe haven't seen much of before but, not sure how well I stuck to the character personality. So review and tell me what you think. (: Thank You.**

She felt herself being compelled forward, placing one foot frightfully in front of the other. His body trembled as she looked up to see the Vampire sitting upright on the sofa, a look of loss and sadness enchanting his once charming face. She couldn't look him full in the eye; she was scared of what she would discover.

"… _Annie?" _he called once more, a sort of sad melodic tone to his rough voice. He sounded as if he hadn't slept for days, and he hadn't.

"_Where is George?" _She managed to stutter, she didn't really want to know, she just wanted to avoid the awkward conversation that was about to erupt.

"_I..I…He's in the kitchen…" _

At that she vanished into thin air. Mitchell looked towards the kitchen, and not seeing her re-appear, collapsed his head into his dirty hands sighing.

She popped only a few seconds later into her chair, changing her mind about the kitchen. The one place she could think, be comforted, be herself. She ran her fingers along the soft ridges of the material as if she was a child in search of a mothers comfort. Her eyes traced the room. It was dark and the breeze entering the windows brushed against her cool skin and she imagine the feel, the rush of air.

Moments later a loud knock at the door caused her to stir from her trance like state. She didn't flinch, knowing already who it was. As the door creaked open an arm appeared attached to a hand holding a small grey cup, her favourite.

"Tea?" a voice asked shakily as its owners face appeared.

Annie didn't look up, just down.

Mitchell placed the cup on the cabinet to his left and floated cautiously towards the armchair, his gut was telling him to walk away, leave her be, his heart taunting him forwards. He fell down as calmly as he could beside the chair, beside Annie.

"_Annie, I'm…sorry," _he started, _"for … everything."_

A small, single tear rolled beautifully down her cheek, she swiped it away with the end of her cotton sleeve. Oh, how she wanted to stay angry at him, she wanted to hate him, shout at him, but she couldn't, not after everything they had been through together. Without another word of encouragement she looked at him, keeping pure eye contact as she moved herself next to him.

The house was quiet, deadly quiet and even with George downstairs. Not even the dog up the road could be heard and he could always be heard, much to the house holds irritation.

Looking into Mitchell's devastating eyes she watched as pain, hurt and confusion flickered through them one by one. It was like a hurricane of emotions, dangerously they took hold of him. They sat like that for what seemed like hours, before one dared to say something to the other. They never needed words; they could just read each other via a connection only they shared.

"_Honestly tea?" _Annie smirked, a glow returning slightly to her face. Mitchell knew she couldn't drink it, but he felt it would comfort her deeply.

He pulled her invisible body towards him and squeezed her gently as tears fell from her face. Her forgiveness was all he wanted, was all he truly needed and if he had to work for that, he would work harder than he had ever done before in his God damn life. He could feel her tears dampening his thin, green shirt, but he held in his new finding, the silence was all that was needed, all the pair could handle. Mitchell stroked her arm tenderly, watching the steam rise from the miniature cup on the side, just letting Annie console herself.

"_Annie, I love you,"_ He whispered lovingly into her delicate ear, _"I always will."_

He kissed her fore head and pulled himself up. He took her hand and led her from the room. He needed to resolve things with George; Annie was on the verge of forgiving him, surly his best friend could do the same. After all, it was George's girlfriend who manufactured all this.

"_Stay here," _he told Annie as he watched her place herself on the brown sofa. He kissed her quickly, but passionately before giving her closed eyes one last look as he headed towards the basic kitchen. Mitchell and George had been friends for years now and they had been the worst and the best years of his Vampire life. He didn't know what he would have done without George's help. Without George he would still be feeding regularly and living in painful regret, the life that took up his nightmares. George had been there with him, beside him through it all. He had killed Herrick the first time around and was there to stop Mitchell doing it himself the second.

Herrick, a nasty, evil person, Vampire to be correct, Herrick was the true monster. He could almost feel him, crawling about like a Cockroach refusing to die; he needed to know his secrets and he needed Herrick to be his old self again, as much as he hated the thought. Mitchell remembered, a few weeks back when George had stopped him from destroying him. The words had stung Mitchell as soon as they had passed through his ears, it, you could say, broke his heart.

George: _"You're the best friend I've ever had. And probably ever will have. But I will turn my back on you. I will wipe you from my memory and I will never mention your name again. I will never tell my son or daughter that I had a friend called Mitchell. It will be as if we'd never met. That's it. Now you make your choice." _

He was preparing himself, ready to hear those words again. It hurt him to the point of no return and he couldn't lose George, not now. He swung back the doors and dramatically pulled a chair out and fell onto it.

George, who was sitting reading the newspaper, The Box Tunnel 20 articles to be precise, flicked the paper in an almost, "_I do not want to talk to you_," kind of way. It was Mitchell's turn to be the Ghost, with George purposely pretending he was invisible. George's eyes skimmed the story over and over, eyes focusing more and more each time.

"_George, listen to me," _Mitchell said, he pushed his short scruffy hair behind his ears and looked straight at George, his eyes piecing his face in search of even a flicker of hope for himself.

George ignored him, how could his own best friend betray him, kill merciful people, normal everyday humans? For what, fun? How could he even live under the same God damn roof as the man, the monster sat facing him. He felt almost sorry for Annie, he knew she wouldn't be able to stay angry at Mitchell for long, she was too weak. The Wolf inside him was just waiting; waiting for Mitchell to put a foot wrong, say the wrong thing and that would be it.

"_Please!"_ Mitchell begged, he had never begged why was he doing it now, because he loved George, because he wanted to go back to living in the old days?

_"George I need you!"_

"_Need me?" _George turned sharply to look at him as he slammed the paper down on the table in a very George like way.

"_Yes…"_

"_You clearly didn't need me when you were busy killing innocent people."_

"_That, that was months ago, I feel… disgusted George."_ Mitchell pleaded.

"_This isn't just some tiny issue; this is huge Mitchell, HUGE!" _George retaliated, his anger emerging furiously, _"you have only yourself to blame for the hate you feel towards yourself, and you deserve it."_

"_George…" _Mitchell couldn't stand it any longer._ "I have lived with this for months, on my own. Do you know how much I tried to protect you from it? Thanks to, to HER we are all suffering now."_

"_SHE has a name!" _George shouted, hatred rising in his face.

Mitchell didn't know what to do, what to say. He stood up kicking the innocent wooden chair against the wall, shattering it into pieces of broken wood. He slammed his fist on the table and closed his face into Georges, intimidating him.

"_If you had never met her, Nina, we would all be living normally right now. You would never know about the Box Tunnel incident and you would be obliviously walking around this wicked house minding your own business and moaning about inconsiderate, small things!" _He stepped back instantly regretting his harsh words but, he couldn't stop.

_"Do you know how hard it has been lying to you, Annie, and I regret saying it but Nina as well?"_

George got up and stood challengingly in front of him. His chest was puffed out and George had never looked so menacing. Annie who had heard the whole conversation, whether she had intended to or not, raced through the double doors screaming at them to stop. She jumped in between the pair, but neither removed their eyes.

"_Guys…please just sit down and talk about this, yes, yes I shall make some tea and we can all have a talk…" _But before she could stop George had turned to face her.

"_Tea? TEA? Annie, how the hell is that going to solve ANYTHING, you really are stupid sometimes!" _George shouted, this caused her to jump backwards in fear. She was frozen, not knowing what to say, this wasn't George, not the usual George, this sounded more like the wolf. Yes, she would put it down to the wolf, she couldn't blame George for being angry, but she didn't think she had done anything so terribly wrong it had caused him to look at her irritated.

"_You think you can solve anything with TEA, you don't even exist in theory, your all smiles and happiness and prodding into people's lives, private lives…"_

"_Don't you dare speak to her like that!" _

Mitchell pushed George backwards, certainly not regretting it this time. George pushed meaningfully back and everything turned to hell. Mitchell was clearly the stronger one, but George was good at holding his own. Annie watched on terrifyingly screaming at the two of them constantly. The light flickered and smashed overhead as Annie's power over took her. Where did everything go wrong? They couldn't fight, they never fought, and they were made to be best friends, brothers. Tears fell furiously down her scared cheeks as she sobbed harder than she physically thought possible.

No one heard the door slam shut as Nina leaped in.

"_STOP!"_ she shouted pulling George away and pushing him to the other side of the room.

_"Please, stop!"_

Mitchell's eyes had turned almost evil and Georges face had transformed into a totally different being, metaphorically. Both pent up with anger and rage, they shook violently as they witnessed the scene they had caused. Herrick had appeared at the door laughing, this was all one big game to him, one big game he was determined to win without having to say a word.

"What is going on?" Nina was furious; the hormones from being pregnant pushed her mentally and physically to her extremes. She could have taken the both of them on and won easily.

Annie was cowering in the corner; her head was buried between her knees so no one could see her face. She looked dead.

No one else moved. Nina stood gallantly in the middle of the two grown men daring them to even try. George was the first to give in swearing ferociously as he stormed out closely followed by Nina, who was on a mission to calm him down before anything got any worse.

Mitchell heard them run up the stairs and as the banging of footsteps stopped he slid his way over to Annie and weaved his tired arms around her, also crying himself into her lifeless hair. He rocked her back and forth, not for her benefit, but for him. He was so angry at himself for turning on George, for scaring Annie, for entertaining Herrick, for everything he had let happen. He didn't know who he was anymore; Annie was the only one keeping him that little bit sane and he was repaying her by betraying her.

"_Now that is the Mitchell I know," _Herrick said smirking cockily, _"the fighting, the anger and, the danger."_

"_Ah, go away Herrick," _Mitchell said not moving from his spot to even give him the satisfaction of looking at him, _"no one wants you here, not now."_

Herrick cackled as he slithered, almost snake like, out of view and probably back to his hiding place in the attic.

"_I'm so sorry," _Mitchell cried into Annie as he felt her shake, _"so very sorry."_


End file.
